


handsel

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Extra Treat, F/F, M/M, Open Marriage, Pre-Femslash, Slight Canon Divergence, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8560063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: So Breha knew: Padmé Amidala was beautiful and she could certainly trust that Padmé was accomplished based on what she had done for her people and for the Republic so far. Whether she was kind, too, was something Breha would decide for herself.Though Breha suspected even that was true. Bail would not have spoken so highly of her if she wasn’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/gifts).



Breha had heard of the young queen from Naboo many years before they ever met, tales of her courtly exploits— _did you know she held a Viceroy for the Trade Federation hostage? In her own throne room?_ —traveling from the Mid Rim all the way to the Core and back again, her stature, her reputation, growing with each telling. By the time Breha did meet her, she was all but a legend. A young queen. And now a young senator. Accomplished, kind, beautiful. This last she could verify for herself: the HoloNet feeds from Coruscant had all but reorganized themselves around her, drawing more attention to the senatorial process than most senators appreciated if the gossip— _intelligence,_ Bail had always joked, _intelligence only, my love_ —was anything to go by.

So Breha knew: Padmé Amidala was beautiful and she could certainly trust that Padmé was accomplished based on what she had done for her people and for the Republic so far. Whether she was kind, too, was something Breha would decide for herself.

Though Breha suspected even that was true. Bail would not have spoken so highly of her if she wasn’t.

So, when given the opportunity, she took it, telling Bail to invite her—along with some of Alderaan’s closest allies in the Senate, of course, as well as potential allies—to Alderaan to enjoy their famed winter festivals alongside the queen herself. Not such a grand experience from her own perspective, but she knew how power worked and knew the effect it had on others.

*

Snow, gentle and quiet, fell on Aldera, a perfect display of Alderaan’s cold, clean beauty. From her favorite spot in the palace, Breha could see much of the capital and imagine what its inhabitants were doing. The in turns rigid and curved shape of its buildings, all constructed of pristine chromium—united and distantly beautiful all at once—shone despite the grayness of the sky. And the mountains seemed close enough to prick one’s finger against, their peaks elegant and sharp and well on display despite the swirl of flakes dancing, veil-like, in the air. Breha used to reach out sometimes, not because she genuinely believed she could touch them, but simply because the whimsy struck her and she felt like indulging in a bit of silliness.

But most importantly, from here, Breha could see the spaceport, an ordered line of ships leaving and arriving and leaving all over again, soothing and regular. This wasn’t always the case, but today was a charmed day. Nothing would interfere with its quality, it appeared, not even something so mundane as a delay in traffic.

Breha waited, more eager than perhaps a queen should have allowed herself to be, yet eager all the same. She was not the sort of person to deny what she felt.

*

They arrived against a burst of wind, Bail harried, a long, heavy coat around his shoulders as a protocol droid tottered ahead of him into the reception hall, a row of equally attired senators trailed after him and the droid, dressed in every shade of color imaginable themselves, all except for the brown of one—

“General Kenobi,” Breha said, protocol given over to surprise. She glanced briefly at Bail and wondered if the redness in his cheeks was from the cold alone and took his hands between her own and kissed him on the cheek. “What an unexpected surprise this is.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he answered, his voice like kindling, dry and warm, “when I was informed, Your Highness.” His eyes searched the ceiling briefly, presumably as he formed his thoughts into a witty rejoinder that he would not share. He had that look about him.

“I’m sure,” Breha replied, equally dry, “that our reactions to unexpected surprises are of a kind in this case.” Obi-Wan, rather notoriously, was not a fan of the unexpected. When it so often ended in bloodshed, Breha couldn’t say she blamed him. But even so, she could tell when he was displeased and he was clearly not that at this moment, surprise or no.

He inclined his head. “Even I have learned to enjoy respites when they are granted to me,” he said, finding his focus over the back of Breha’s shoulder. She could guess at whom he looked. “Though I might wonder at their provenance.”

Breha could well imagine the look of confounded innocence that probably graced Bail’s face at the moment. “Whatever the case,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“As am I, Your Highness,” he replied, gracious, stepping past her to stand at Bail’s side.

From here, she turned her attention to the others assembled around her, most of them chatting quietly with one another, smiling and laughing with one another. Most of them had attended one of Alderaan’s winter festivals before. “Eee-three?” she asked, drawing the protocol droid’s attention her way. “Would you mind leading everyone to their rooms?”

“No, ma’am,” the droid replied, her voice humming pleasantly. “Right this way, please.”

Breha murmured greetings and exchanged nods with everyone as they shuffled past. All except for Padmé, who was easy to spot, elegantly garbed and moving with a poise few could match. “Senator Amidala?” she asked, not daring to reach out for the woman though she wanted to.

“Your Highness,” she replied, offering a light curtsey, her glossy curls catching the light. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. I would be happy to show you to your quarters myself. But might I have a moment of your time?” Breha asked, gesturing toward the door on the other side of the room—the same direction E-3PO had led the others in. “Bail has spoken so highly of you.” Her eyes met his, Obi-Wan a silent, solid presence next to him. “I couldn’t resist extending an invitation.”

“Senator Organa is kind,” Padmé said, gracious, nodding at Bail in recognition of him. “As are you for opening your home to us.”

“The winter months are for sharing with friends.” Breha offered a smile, strolling finally toward the door. “And friends we would like to make. Come, let me show you your rooms.”

Padmé smiled in return, a beautiful, full smile that made Breha’s heart ache at its sincerity. It made Breha feel mischievous and carefree. And as they turned into the hallway, she leaned toward Padmé—Padmé leaned back—and, in a lowered voice, asked, “Tell me, how did the Jedi Council justify the general’s presence?”

“He’s here as our protection,” Padmé replied, lowering her voice, too, inviting herself into the conspiratorial mood of the question. “A Jedi would be a powerful deterrent against a Separatist attack were one to occur.”

Breha shook her head. “These are sad days that this must be a concern.” Still, it made more sense now that Obi-Wan had agreed even if it was a rather flimsy excuse. No, that wasn’t true exactly. It was a serious concern, but not a likely outcome. Alderaan was well-defended, a safe Core world. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.” _Especially if it means Bail and Obi-Wan got to spend some time together. That so rarely happened these days. They deserve it_.

“I agree,” Padmé said, but Breha wasn’t sure with which part—both, perhaps—and didn’t ask.

“Just this way,” she said instead. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”

“Not at all.” Padmé smiled, peering around her at the walls, the blue-patterned carpet, the delicate arch of the ceiling from which soft light emitted. Then, she looked at Breha, her gaze heavy with—possibility, intrigue? Perhaps she knew from Bail of their arrangement? While Breha considered this possibility and allowed herself to hope, Padmé continued speaking. “It’s been an invigorating trip.”

“In that case,” Breha said, again adopting that conspiratorial tone, already opening herself to confidences with Padmé that were perhaps premature, “shall I show you my favorite garden?”

Already, Breha found she cared much for her, the connection instant, her instincts telling her that yes, Padmé was everything she’d expected and so much more.

Her instincts were never wrong.

*

She ensured Padmé was seated next to her at supper, Bail at the other end of the table with Obi-Wan, always with Obi-Wan when he was around. Smiling across at her husband, she tapped her finger against the table. One of the sillier gestures of affection they’d come up with over the years, a quiet reminder of their love for one another when they were incapable of speaking the words to one another.

Then, she turned her attention again to Padmé, and showed as much affection for her under the circumstances as propriety allowed.

*

“Come with me,” Padmé said, quiet, reaching for Breha’s arm, her palm warm and welcome against Breha’s skin.

Fighting the urge to take Padmé by the curve of her elbow, Breha nodded. “Have you grown tired of your compatriots already?” she asked, supper long forgotten as chatter and good cheer and a roaring fire replaced it. A few of the other senators have already retired—intending in the morning to take a skyhopper up to one of the nearby peaks for a touch of hover-skiing—and no one paid them much mind as they stepped out onto the balcony, abandoning the parlor all together.

A weather-controlled field had been set up around it to ensure anyone who stepped outside wouldn’t face the night’s chill, but Breha’s arms pimpled anyway. “Further down, we’ll have a little privacy,” she said, stepping away from the doorway and around the side of the building to a section of the balcony against which they could stand without being seen through the open doorway or a window.

“They _are_ my friends,” Padmé insisted. “But I see them so often…”

“You mean you’ve heard Senator Flarris’s stories three times over already? Consider me shocked.”

Padmé laughed lightly into her hand. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Would you not?” Breha tilted her head, amused and charmed all at once and enough of both to risk teasing. “You are a better person than I.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Padmé replied, as honestly modest as Breha had ever heard another person be. Remarkable in a senator, in a former queen. And admirable. She would not look at Breha all of a sudden and sighed and fidgeted as much as her training would allow her.

Breha knew then what she would ask and rejoiced—as much as _her_ training would allow. She didn’t want to make Padmé uncomfortable.

“Is it… true? About you and Senator Organa?”

“That would depend entirely on what you’ve heard. If it is that we have an agreement,” Breha said, taking her cues from Padmé and not looking at her as desperately as she wanted to, “with other people in our lives that we care about, then, yes.” Here, her palms called for action, but she refrained from pulling Padmé close like they wanted her to. “Does that trouble you?”

“No, it’s—” Padmé’s dress swished as she shifted and brushed at its full skirt. “You seem very happy.”

Breha couldn’t help but smile. This was the one area where she could claim perfect happiness. Or as perfect as any relationship could. “We are.”

“And there’s room in that happiness for others?”

Daring a glance at Padmé, she saw Padmé gazing back, intense. Yearning. There was only one answer she could give to that. “Yes, always.”

They did not kiss, not yet, though they would, Breha was sure. But Padmé did grab for her hand, clasped it in both of hers and squeezed, and that, for now, was good enough, cutting the edge of that yearning and transforming it into peace, contentment. There was yet time. And Breha was proud to be here for Padmé at this moment.

“I would like to make you happy,” she said.

“Yes, I think I’d like that,” Padmé replied, the sound of longing in her voice. It was often lonely for those people in the greatest positions of power and Padmé had held such positions for such a long time.

They watched the snow fall, and Breha counted herself amongst the luckiest women in all the galaxy for the chance offered her here. She would not squander it. Pressing Padmé’s hand closer, she made that promise to herself and Padmé both.


End file.
